Page 5 of Diversions With Darcy & Elizabeth

For goodness’ sake, what a fawner! I lowered my needle and faced her. “You appear to hold the opinion that Mr. Darcy is skilled at everything he does.” Fie. No one could have missed the unrestrained sarcasm in my remark. Miss Bingley’s glare burned into me. Worst of all, I had incurred Mr. Darcy’s scrutiny: he set down his pen and turned in my direction.

“Indeed, yes.” Miss Bingley gestured towards the recipient of her acclaim. “He is an excellent estate manager, a skilled rider, shooter, pugilist, and fencer. He is as accomplished a gentleman as you will find.”

With care, I maintained a nonchalant presence. “I see.”

A hint of a smile enhanced Mr. Darcy’s noble aspect, and I could not resist staring at the handsome picture he made. He shrugged, adopting a smug air. “I have made an effort to excel where I may. Any successes I have achieved are the result of many hours of practice and competent instruction from my father and other talented individuals.”

This bit of swagger from him provided a well-timed reminder of the arrogance that overshadowed his physical charms.

“Oh yes.” Miss Bingley’s head bobbed up and down. “The late Mr. Darcy must have been a particularly fine and admirable man.” She moved to stand before me. “Without doubt, Mr. Darcy is the most adept gentleman in all of Derbyshire, if not in all of England.”

“That is too much praise.” Mr. Darcy tugged at his coat sleeve. “I generally do well in sports, but I do not always win.” His sight drifted towards me.

Fuelled by the liquid fortification I had consumed earlier, I held his gaze. “Nay, I am convinced of your excellence in any situation or activity. No doubt you are always gracious and considerate to others even in the most trying situations, such as when encouraged to dance with a lady who falls below your lofty standards.”

Mr. Darcy’s eyes flickered and widened, while a soft groan came from Mr. Bingley.

Botheration, why had I not remained silent? I shrank back in my seat.

“That is correct, Miss Eliza.” Miss Bingley twisted at the waist for a look at her object. “Mr. Darcy’s manners are always exemplary no matter the circumstances.”

“In fact, that is untrue.” At Mr. Darcy’s quiet admission, Miss Bingley gasped. He fixed upon me and smoothed his lapel. “I am not blessed with the talent for conversing easily with strangers. From my perspective, devising polite comments with a new acquaintance is more taxing than resolving the most challenging of estate problems.” His chin dipped. “Nevertheless, that is no excuse for my shameful behaviour at the assembly last month. Foremost, I am sorry for my reprehensible remarks that evening, Miss Elizabeth. My statements were inaccurate as well as disrespectful. I hope you will forgive me.”

Good heavens. I swallowed. Who would have expected such an arrogant man to acknowledge his malfeasance? “I accept your apology. It was gauche of me to mention the incident.”

“Not at all. You have nothing for which to reproach yourself.”

Miss Bingley’s head swung from Mr. Darcy to me and back again. “I do not understand. What remarks do you speak of?”

“It is none of your concern, Caroline.” Mr. Bingley used a firm tone. “They do not bear repeating.”

Mr. Darcy returned his attention to his letter, and I busied myself in sewing. By and by, with his missive completed, Mr. Darcy rose from the desk, and addressed the room: “If any of the ladies is of a mind to provide music, I should be grateful.” His sight fell upon me as he finished his request.

“What say you, Miss Eliza?” Miss Bingley’s mouth twisted, forming a simper. “Shall you delight us with your skills at the pianoforte tonight?”

No doubt she and her sister had studied with masters, and she would take delight in following my mediocre playing with her far superior performance. “No, thank you. I am content to remain at my work.”

Thus, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst hastened to the instrument, and the latter turned the pages. At first, Mr. Darcy appeared to heed Miss Bingley’s performance. When she began a lively Scotch tune, though, he abandoned his seat to walk towards me. At this development, I fumbled with my needle and gave my finger a minor poke.

He came near enough to test the verge of propriety. “Since we have cleared the air, and I am acting of my own volition this time, perhaps you will consent to dance a reel with me now.”

His dark irises stole my focus for several seconds before I could attempt to work out a response. Did he make the invitation out of guilt? Be that as it may, a keen eagerness to accept flourished deep within my breast. Standing up with him would be a welcome break from the evening’s inactivity, and he would make a good-looking, nimble partner. But I had already paid him too much attention, and Miss Bingley had not missed his approach: she sneaked glowering glances at us and more than once botched what had heretofore been a flawless performance. To dance with him in this setting would be ill advised.

“Miss Elizabeth?” Furrows creased his brow.

“I appreciate your unprompted offer, but I must decline.” I edged my head in Miss Bingley’s direction. “At least one person present is displeased to see us speaking, and I should rather not amplify the animosity from that quarter.”

He adopted a sober expression. “I understand.” With a nod, he returned to his chair, and my racing pulse calmed.

The following day, I recounted what had occurred the previous evening to Jane.

My sister, who had lacked any hint of an appetite since my arrival, managed to consume a slice of toast as she listened. “I commend Mr. Darcy for his gallant apology and for asking you to dance. Has your opinion of him changed?”

“His character is more complex than most. I am uncertain what to think of him.” In fact, he perplexed me in a provoking and persistent fashion, and an exact picture of his winsome visage had tarried in the periphery of my consciousness since last night, shuffling to the forefront at moments such as these.

A maid entered the room to give me a note. I skimmed the message, penned in an elegant feminine hand. “This is from Mrs. Hurst.” I raised an eyebrow at Jane. “She invites me to walk with her this morning. This is an unexpected kindness.”

“There now, do you see?” Enthusiasm coloured Jane’s query. “I believe you will like her, and Miss Bingley as well, once you know them better.” She touched my hand. “You must go, for I am weary.” Her eyelids drooped, and she slipped lower on her pillow. “Besides, I fancy you are eager for a walk.”